


In Cold Blood

by rosestone



Category: Blood-Smoke Series - Tanya Huff
Genre: Case Fic, Christmas, F/M, Implied Vicki Nelson/Mike Celluci, takes place between Blood Lines and Blood Pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosestone/pseuds/rosestone
Summary: It's Christmas, and Vicki's looking forward to the sort of quiet holiday season she never could've had as a cop.  But even for a PI, crime never stops... especially when you're the only investigator in Toronto who knows the supernatural isn't just the stuff of fantasy novels.
Relationships: Henry Fitzroy/Vicki Nelson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gryfeathr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryfeathr/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Special thanks to my beta, elijah_was_a_prophet.

Vicki shoved her hands in her pockets, staring at the gaudy display in front of her, and scowled.

It wasn't that she didn't like Christmas; she could appreciate a good opportunity for commercialism as much as anyone else, and this year's holiday would be a lot nicer than the ones she'd had in the past now that she didn't have to worry about getting called into work to deal with other people's holiday-induced domestic disputes. And she could admit to being fond of the trappings, too - the carols she'd learned as a kid she still knew almost by heart, the lights, the general atmosphere of cheer.

She'd just find the whole thing a lot more bearable if the decorations hadn't started going up on the first of November.

"Not what I'm here for," she reminded herself, grimacing. She had a paying job - a paying job that promised to be more interesting than the usual cheating spouses, even - and she needed to get to it. Even if it meant braving the coffeeshop's soundtrack of Christmas-themed pop music.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed the door open.

The shop was bustling; almost every table was full. Over in the far corner Vicki spotted a dark-haired girl sitting by herself, staring around anxiously. Had to be her.

"Bess Thompson?"

She jumped, visibly collecting herself. "I - yes. You're Victoria Nelson?"

"That would be me." She took the seat opposite. Closer up, her makeup couldn't hide the shadows beneath her eyes or the tightness around her lips. "So. What did you need my help with?"

"Yes. That." She looked down at her hands, a hank of brown hair falling over her face. "I work at the university library. I've been there for a few years now, ever since I finished my degree. I _like_ it there."

"But?"

She blew out a breath. "Things have been vanishing. It started with a book I'd taken out - I had it out for repairs, it seemed interesting, I thought I'd take a second look. And since then it's been other things. Nothing bit, nothing expensive, so nobody's thought about calling the police yet - I don't think - but people are starting to wonder if they're wrong about just misplacing things. One of my co-workers already suggested I took the book. She meant it as a joke, I think, but..."

"You think you'll be the prime suspect if they _do_ go to the authorities. And you want to get in first."

"Well. Yes. I mean, it's not - I can't see why anybody would bother stealing half of what's gone missing, honestly, but there's just been so much of it, all one after the other - I don't know. Something's going on."

"Mmm." Vicki turned a packet of sugar over in her fingers, watching her. "You realise that being the one to bring in outside assistance might not help there? Or, on the other hand, might make people think you're paranoid?"

"That had occurred to me, yes." She winced. "Sorry. I don't - I'd be a liar if I said the idea doesn't bother me a little, people thinking that kind of thing about me, but... I just want this to be over."

"That's understandable." She pulled out her notebook and a pen. "So. First things first - let's get a list of everything that's gone missing that you know of..."

Vicki stared up at the library's facade thoughtfully. She'd already gone through Bess's flat, the last place she'd seen the book, though there hadn't been much to see; she'd turned the place upside down looking for it before things started vanishing out of the library itself. Bess's roommate had been out, but she'd promised to corral her for a chat with Vicki next time she was home. That left the only other logical place to search: the place everything _else_ had vanished from.

She had a surprisingly thorough list of missing items; Bess had been worried enough about being blamed for them that she'd started keeping track of them fairly early on. Vicki suspected not everything on it was actually gone - she'd lost enough pens over the years she was pretty sure they were capable of growing legs and escaping while nobody else was looking - but it was a starting place, anyway. And, as Bess had said, there was enough on there that there had to be deliberate theft going on. Sure, losing sweaters or office supplies or coffee mugs was pretty normal, but not in this kind of volume.

It was quiet inside - almost deserted, in fact. As she watched, a woman with an armful of books wandered out of the stacks, plucked a book off a shelf and vanished again, but other than her and the distant squeak of what she guessed must be a book cart, it was empty. Then again, it _was_ almost Christmas, and out of term to boot; the real question might be why there was anybody here at all.

"Can I help you?"

Vicki turned. Behind her was an older man leaning on a metal cart piled high with books.

"Victoria Nelson. I'm a private detective. I was wondering if I could speak to whoever's in charge here?"

"I take it you're not here for research, then." He sighed. "Come this way."

He led her to a bank of offices at the back of the building. They were much more utilitarian than the rest of the building, and the ceiling was lower; Vicki suspected an addition. It was quieter than she would have thought - only a few people were in the main space, which judging by the scattered books, glue and other supplies was dedicated to book repair - but if anything was an off season for a library, she supposed, this was it. Near the back were a few private offices.

"So. How can I help you, Ms Nelson?" he said, closing the door behind them and settling behind the desk. "Ah - Rob Leveson. I'm the head librarian."

"Good. I'm here on behalf of Bess Thompson -"

He winced.

"Is something wrong?"

"This is about the disappearing office supplies. Isn't it."

"It is, yes." Vicki frowned at him. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Nobody actually believes she's behind any of this, Ms Nelson. Someone made a joke and she's taken it too much to heart - not that I'm surprised. This is her first real job, and she's sensitive about how little seniority she has compared to the rest of us. It doesn't matter to anyone but her, but unfortunately, it matters a _lot_ to her."

"I see. But - I've seen her list of vanished items. You can't think this is all coincidence?"

"It'd be a fairly large one, you're right. Somebody might be pilfering items - though it needn't be one of us; we have an outside company that cleans after hours, not that I see why any of them should want the pens, or any of the rest of it. But I'd be surprised if half of what's on that list was actually stolen."

"Oh?"

He shrugged. "The power of suggestion is fairly, well, powerful. Pens disappear. Scarves get thrown in the wash, or lost on public transport. Corey's mug I'd be willing to bet is in shards in a bin somewhere - it was a speciality one, his kids painted it and got it glazed for a Father's Day gift, and nobody's going to want to admit to smashing _that_. You see what I mean?"

"It's not impossible. But I've been hired to solve the mystery, Mr Leveson. Going back to Bess and telling her you think she's jumping at shadows won't pay my bills."

He barked a laugh. "Fair enough. So, any other questions for me?"

"A few. Let's say this is deliberate theft - and, for the sake of simplicity, let's ignore the cleaning staff. Who do you think might have a motive to do it? Because they have a grudge against Bess, or because they're planning on stealing something more valuable and are trying to get everyone to look the other way. Or as a prank."

"Honestly? No. Nobody here dislikes Bess enough for something like that, and the only one who'd think of stealing things as a prank is Cam, and he's not subtle enough to keep it quiet this long. During term-time there's usually a couple of students hanging around on a regular basis - sometimes they're looking for experience in library science work, like Bess did before she started here, and sometimes they're just hoping we'll bring them on part-time - and if it _was_ term-time I'd direct you their way, but they've all gone home for the holiday. All we've got left are the PhD students, and they've all got more than enough to occupy their time."

"Huh. I don't suppose any of _them_ might have a grudge?"

He snorted. "Some of them are absolutely obsessive enough about their research to want to take some kind of revenge if they'd been interrupted, you're not wrong, but frankly I think something like this would take too much time for them. And no, I don't think any of them particularly dislike her."

"And you don't think anyone here might be trying to steal something?"

He met her eyes squarely. "I'd like to think I know my people well enough to guess when one of them's doing something like that. Frankly, I'd be pretty astonished if you found out that one of them _was_. Still, I suppose you have to keep every possibility in mind, don't you?"

"Ruling them out immediately doesn't usually work out well, no." She paused. "I don't suppose you have any theories of your own?"

"I do, actually - though I don't think it's one you'd find satisfying."

"Oh?"

"Animal Control."

Vicki blinked. "Sorry?"

"You know how crows steal things? For their nests, I think - anyway, they can't be the only animal that does that, can they? And it'd explain why almost everything that's gone missing has been so, well, cheap - because animals don't care about the values we put on things, do they? It'd certainly explain all the pens."

"I was actually assuming some of those had gone missing on their own."

"So was I, at first. Right up until the hundred-pack I'd bought to replace them vanished unopened."

"Ah. Right." She fished her notebook out of her bag, adding it to the bottom of her list. "And you really think an animal could've done that?"

He shrugged. "I'm a librarian, not a biologist. There's a reason I was planning to call in an actual expert before saying anything."

"I'm surprised you didn't just ask around the university."

"If I had a better guess about what might be the problem then finding someone to ask about it might help, yes. But universities tend to breed specialists, not generalists, and it's a generalist I need right now. And unfortunately I've had a hard time finding someone who's interested in coming out to investigate something that _might_ be an animal problem when they could be spending time with their families instead. Tis the season, and all that."

"It'd probably be easier in January," she agreed, flipping over a page and adding _crow?_ to her list of theories. It didn't seem terribly likely to her - but, at this point, nothing did. What was the point in trying to frame someone for theft by taking _pens?_

Norman Birdwell's demon had stolen on his behalf. Of course, the things he'd had it taking were valuables, and its real interest in the affair was killing people... but.

Who said there couldn't be some magical creature that _did_ think pens were worth taking?

"Ms Nelson?"

She jerked her head up, smiling apologetically at him. "I got a little lost in thought there, sorry. Would it be all right if I had a look around, maybe had a word to a couple of your employees? I'd like to see if I can spot anything unusual."

"Fine by me. Do you need a guide?"

She shook her head. "I've found I get a better feel for the place if I can just wander. That said - where should I be wandering? Bess said that as far as she knew everything that'd vanished had gone from your offices out here, but I'll admit I find that a little difficult to believe."

"That was my reaction too. I suppose we could be mistaken - there are a _lot_ of books out there - but I've been doing spot checks and taking inventory as often as I can manage, and it really doesn't seem like anything out there is gone."

"Huh." Why? What was different about the library? Was the thief, whoever or whatever it was, not interested in taking books? But then, what had happened to the book Bess had lost, that had kicked the investigation off to begin with?

"I know." He flashed a smile at her. "We're pretty quiet today - there's not a lot going on at this time of year, so I don't see much point in not giving people time off if they ask. I might let everyone know you're here, though. Unless that's a problem?"

"Better than getting kicked out for wandering around where I shouldn't be. Or having to explain what I'm doing over and over again." She paused, frowning. "You're _sure_ nothing went from the library itself?"

"As strange as it sounds? Yes."

"... And that's what I spent today doing."

Henry quirked an eyebrow at her. "Well, it sounds more peaceful than what you've been working on recently, anyway."

"More interesting, at the very least." It wasn't like she _enjoyed_ tracking down liars or petty thieves. But it paid, and there didn't seem to be an end to the market.

"Mmm." His expression didn't change, but she knew with an uncomfortable jolt of her heart what he was thinking about.

Anwar Tawfik. Her stint in lockup. Henry's fight at the top of the tower, that would have cost all their lives if he'd lost.

And that brought about another set of memories she'd been trying very hard not to consider. Damn them both, anyway, for putting her in this position. As if things weren't working perfectly fine already.

"Writing tonight?" she asked, tone deliberately light. "Or do you have other plans?"

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure where to go with my current novel. Something's not working. I'm ahead of schedule, though, so I thought I might set it aside for the evening and see if the problem resolves itself for tomorrow." He quirked a brow at her. "Why?"

"Well..." She knew exactly what she _wanted_ to say. It'd been more than a few nights since he'd fed from her; she could step a little closer, forget about the case, forget that he and Mike seemed determined to ruin some perfectly good relationships...

But she wouldn't be able to. Not with her theory about Bess's problem lurking at the back of her mind. She turned away from him with a grimace, dropping into a chair. "Henry? Have you heard of some kind of supernatural creature that steals things? Low-value ones?"

He sank into the chair opposite hers, frowning. "Not particularly. The demon was stealing..."

"But only when Birdwell told it to. And there isn't a trail of bodies this time." She'd spent part of the afternoon hunched over police reports checking - though, after what had happened last time, she would've expected it to have hit the front pages. And possibly prompted a call from Celluci.

"Most likely not a demon, then. To the best of my knowledge, they require sustenance to survive on the mortal plane, and they're not particularly good at hiding their victims." A little tension went out of his frame, something that would have been nearly unnoticeable to anyone who didn't know him as well as Vicki did. "Good."

"And you haven't heard of anything else known for theft?"

"Not in particular. But I'm sure I haven't encountered every supernatural creature in existence, either." He met her eyes. "You think that's what's behind your case?"

She shrugged. "It'd explain why nobody's actually seen anyone taking anything. And -" She fished her notebook out of her bag. "I mean, look at this. Can you think of any reason someone would bother to steal all this?"

He flicked through the pages, frowning. "Not particularly. None of it has any mystic significance, off the top of my head -"

"I hate to think what kind of spell would need a hundred-pack of cheap pens, a half-drunk mug of coffee, and a Leafs scarf."

"- and I doubt any of it has value beyond the sentimental, if that." He glanced back up at her. "Which would equally well rule out some supernatural creature, you realise."

She spread her hands. "Who says our hypothetical gremlin sees value the same way we do? Maybe it likes the smell of coffee. Or it needed the scarf to make a nest -"

"And the pens?"

"It hates the Leafs."

His lips twitched. "Surely it'd be easier to steal a different scarf than to dye it out with substandard ink."

"Maybe that's its idea of a fun craft project. C'mon, Henry, work with me here. My leads so far boil down to no known motive, no physical evidence of any kind, and 'maybe it's a weird crow'. I've gotta work with my gut feelings."

"And your gut thinks it's something supernatural?"

"My gut thinks there's something here that isn't what it seems."

"In that case, perhaps we had better look into it. I _do_ have books dealing with the mystical other than the grimoire, though I'm not certain how accurate any of them are. Some of them may in fact be very inaccurate, judging by their section on vampires... but I suppose it's a start."

"Yes. It is."

Henry hadn't been wrong about the books. Half of them were closer to treatises on mythology than anything else; none of them had the feeling of unpleasant power about them that the grimoire had had. Still, she kept taking notes. Who said this _wasn't_ a manifestation of some kind of trickster god, after all? Or some creature from the other side of the world that'd followed some immigrant family here? The problem with that theory being that surely it'd be tormenting the family, not Bess and her co-workers... well, maybe it liked the people it'd followed too much to bother them. Or one of them had asked Bess out and it was taking revenge after she'd said no. Or... something.

"This is pointless," Vicki announced, slamming the book in front of her shut.

"Oh?"

"You were right. This could be just about anything, and we don't have any good way of working out what it is - not unless someone's written some kind of field guide to apparently-harmless magical creatures, anyway, and if that _does_ exist it's not here."

Henry closed his own book more gently. "What do you plan to do, then?"

"I need to handle this like an actual private investigator. Whatever this is, it's only just started, and it's targeting Bess. Maybe this is something natural - maybe it's, I don't know, the magical equivalent of geese flying south for the winter, and in a couple of weeks it'll all be over - but I don't think so. Someone's deliberately targeted her. Find them, find out what they've done, make them stop it... and we're good." She met his eyes, daring him to object.

"It certainly seems a great deal more direct than all this. Though probably not any simpler." He met her eyes. "And not likely to be something you could achieve tonight."

"No." She had no idea what time it actually was, but her back and eyes were aching, and the glare of holiday decorations outside the window had faded. She stood and stretched, trying to shake the kinks out of her spine. "It's far too late to go find someone to shake down for information."

"Especially when you don't know who you're looking for yet." He gathered up the books, setting them aside in a pile, then stepped behind her and dug his thumbs into the tense muscles along her spine. "I'm sure we can find something more... interesting to fill the hours until morning."

"I need to sleep sometime, you know," she muttered, letting out a long breath and relaxing into his hands.

"The night's still young."

"Closer to middle-aged at this point, I think." She swallowed hard as his lips brushed the side of her neck. "But there's still some left."

"Mmm."

"I can think of more comfortable places to do this than on the table," she added, pulling away from him.

"Then, by all means, let us go."

Vicki'd always found winter easier to bear than the sweltering heat of a Toronto summer. It'd never occurred to her before that one of the best parts of the season was just how long the nights were.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning found her heading to Bess's apartment again, for an interview she was hoping might be more useful than yesterday's discussions with the librarians had been. According to Bess, her roommate would be at their apartment all morning and had agreed to speak to her; of course, since she'd called to tell her so at eight in the morning Vicki wasn't actually going to get to take advantage of having the entire morning to deal with it. Frankly, she would have rather had the extra few hours to sleep.

Bess met her outside her apartment building. Her shoulders were hunched, hands shoved deep into her pockets. Vicki suppressed a sigh. She was a paying client. She had to be patient with her.

"Is something wrong? Your roommate didn't have to leave, did she?"

"Well. No." She ducked her head, eyes fixed on asphalt. "She's kind of... not feeling great? At the moment? Or generally speaking?"

"Oh." Vicki was aware what a wide range 'not feeling well' could cover. On the whole, she'd prefer not to interview someone who was actually vomiting. "If she's unwell, I could come back another day -"

"Oh! Oh, no, that's not what I - um. She got dumped," Bess said, and winced. "I mean, she _said_ it was mutual, but nobody gets this upset if they _wanted_ to break up, you know?"

"Okay," Vicki said, more patiently than she thought the non sequitur deserved considering how early it was. "And this is important because..."

"She's really upset? It's not like she isn't trying, you know, she knows how worried I am about the book going missing so she helped me look for it, she's just... not really in the mood for people."

This was, as it turned out, an accurate assessment. Jane Brown seemed willing enough to answer Vicki's questions, but she spent the conversation slumped in her chair, eyes fixed on her chipped nail polish. Judging by the creases in her clothing and her greasy hair, Vicki thought she could guess who the mess scattered around the apartment belonged to, too.

"I guess some of my stuff could've gone missing," she said, shrugging without looking up. "I haven't really been paying attention."

"But it didn't seem like there was when we tidied everything up to see if we could find my book, right?" Bess said. "Right?"

She shrugged again.

"Did anyone visit between when you brought it home and when you realised it was missing?" Vicki asked. "Friends, family? The pizza guy?"

Bess shook her head. "I went out a couple of times, but nobody came back with me. And Jane's sort of been..."

"Aaron came to see me," Jane said.

"Your brother came over?" Bess said, wrinkling her nose. "Did he have to?"

Jane sneered. She didn't look at Bess, or even move in her direction; it was still very obvious who it was aimed at.

"Seriously. This is a _shared_ apartment. You can't just bring -"

"He's my _brother_ ," Jane said, flicking a glare in her direction. "I thought you said family was always fine. Or did you just mean yours? Anyway, if you're really worried about somebody bringing someone _unsavoury_ back here, maybe I should start vetting your -"

"So he was here before the book went missing?" Vicki interrupted. "Or - was it? Do you know if it was still here when he visited?"

"It was, yeah. He noticed it and asked if he could borrow it, and I said yes."

Vicki blinked. Surely she would have mentioned something if he still had it - or, considering how much Bess seemed to dislike him, gotten him to return it and pretended it'd been hiding in their apartment the whole time. But before she could ask, Bess jumped in, scowling.

"You let that asshole borrow it? And you didn't _say_ anything?"

"You brought it home, dumped it on the table under a pile of bills and forgot about it. I didn't think you'd care that much. Anyway, he brought it back, and it wasn't until the week after that you went looking for it, so I didn't think it was worth mentioning by that point."

"How do you know he didn't bring back some other book instead? He -"

"Because I saw him do it. And there aren't any extra books here - you'd know, you're the one who picked them all up. And because it was there, on the table, for _days_ before it vanished." She folded her arms, scowling up at Bess. "What do you have against my brother, anyway? You're always like this when he visits."

Bess spluttered. "It's not - I don't - look, if he wants people to like him, he has to start being less weird. All right?"

"Maybe," Vicki said, "I should go have a word with him. Just so we can get everything absolutely clear." And if it got her away from what was promising to develop into an argument, all the better.

"Sure. I don't want anyone falsely accusing him of anything." She scribbled an address on the back of an envelope, shoving it at Vicki. "He's kind of hard to find during the day, but he starts his shift at work around four, if you don't mind waiting that long. His bosses don't usually mind someone dropping in for a chat early in the evening."

"Thanks." She backed towards the door. "I'll let you know if anything else comes up, Bess."

By the time four o'clock had rolled around, Vicki felt like she'd well and truly exhausted her options. Bess's co-workers all seemed to like her, and none of them were aware of anyone who might dislike her enough to try to frame her for theft - though, frankly, if that was what this was, she wasn't sure it was very well aimed. She'd gone back to Bess's apartment after a couple of hours and door knocked, but it didn't seem like anyone there was very familiar with her. And that left... what? There was no reason that whoever was targeting Bess had to be someone _she_ knew of - they could be a total stranger she'd just managed to irritate once - but it would be significantly harder to find them if they were. For a given value of _significantly harder_ that actually meant _impossible_.

It was a relief to step off her bus, coat pulled tight around her shoulders, and make her way over to the restaurant Jane had directed her to. At least she knew who she needed to talk to here, after all.

The restaurant clearly wasn't open for business yet, but the waiter who'd come to the door to shoo her away seemed happy enough to let her in when she said who she'd come to talk to. He waved her to a table in the corner and then disappeared into the back.

"Hopefully he's curious enough to actually come out," Vicki muttered, pulling out her notebook and a pen. It hadn't seemed worth it earlier to stay around long enough to get Jane to call and let him know she was coming - and it'd be a risk, anyway, if he turned out to be involved - but it wouldn't be particularly helpful if he refused to see her.

The kitchen door swung open again and a young man strode out. He looked like a better-kept version of his sister: same brown hair, same face shape, but minus the poor grooming and general sense of misery. Vicki couldn't help but feel a retroactive burst of sympathy for her, despite the argument she'd gotten perilously close to being caught in.

"Can I help you?"

"You're Aaron Brown?" Vicki said briskly. "Victoria Nelson. I need to talk to you - I'm investigating a series of workplace thefts on behalf of one of your acquaintances, Bess Thompson -"

"This is about that book, isn't it," he said, sighing. "Great. Hang on, just let me -" He darted into the back, briefly conferring with a co-worker, before dropping into the chair opposite her. "Is this likely to take long? We have a lot of work to do before customers start showing up."

"I'll try to make this as quick and easy as possible. You already know about the missing book?"

He drummed his fingers on the table, shoulders hunched. "Jane mentioned it, yeah. Apparently Bess's losing her shit about it. But I guess that's why she hired you - you're, what, a PI?"

"I am, yes. Your sister said you borrowed it?"

"I did borrow it, sure. It looked interesting, and she'd just left it sitting on the table - I don't think she'd touched it in a couple of days, there was paperwork on top of it - anyway, I borrowed it, I read it, I took it back a couple of days later. Put it exactly where I'd left it. You can ask Jane if you'd like. She was there." He met Vicki's eyes, expression open.

"What exactly was so _interesting_ about this book that so many people borrowed it?"

He grinned briefly. "I can't tell you why Bess wanted it. She and I don't talk much. But... well, you've met my sister. She's been miserable ever since that asshole dumped her - honestly, who does that at this time of year?"

"Someone who doesn't want to have to come up with an excuse why they aren't bringing their college girlfriend home with them for Christmas?"

"Ugh. Probably. Anyway, she's always been one of those people who gets really enthusiastic about Christmas - singing carols around the house, putting up decorations as soon as possible, that kind of thing - and she's a history major, so I figured... book about historical Christmas traditions? Why not? Maybe I could find something that'd cheer her up again."

"I take it that didn't work."

His shoulders slumped. "Well. No. Not yet. But there's still another few weeks, right?"

"That's true." Vicki wouldn't bet on his success - the exhausted misery she'd seen in Jane's eyes didn't seem like something that'd be cleared away by anything but time - but she wasn't about to burst his bubble. "Can you think of anyone who might have taken it? To upset her, or maybe as part of a frame job before they stole something else?"

He hesitated, eyeing her. "I don't know what she said when you were talking to her -"

"It didn't seem like she likes you much."

"No. She doesn't. I'm not really sure why, since I've never done anything to her - best explanation I've been able to come up with is she hates that I'm a college dropout, and frankly if that's the worst thing anyone ever thinks of me I think I'll be doing pretty well in life - but it's been like that more or less since I met her. So, y'know, if you're looking for someone who might have a grudge against her, you could do worse than find someone she's been a judgemental bitch to."

"A group that includes you," Vicki pointed out.

"If I'd been stealing her stuff, I definitely wouldn't tell you all this," he said, snorting. "And I'd be an idiot to get her upset like this. Her freakouts are the last thing I want Jane to have to deal with right now. She's got enough on her plate, you know?"

"Right." In Vicki's experience, that wasn't enough to stop people from doing something like this - given the bad blood between them, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been doing it purely to irritate Bess, or to convince his sister to move away from someone he disliked - but she resisted the urge to point it out. It wouldn't do any good.

"Was there anything else you needed?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder as the kitchen door banged open again.

Vicki shook her head. "Here's my card. I'd appreciate it if you called if you think of anything else helpful."

"Sure." He tucked it away as he stood. "It was nice meeting you, Ms Nelson. But - uh, no offence - I hope we don't run into one another again."

She shook his hand. "Unless something else comes up for the case, I doubt we will. But I suppose we'll see."

Vicki made sure to keep her shoulders down until she'd made it a few blocks away. Then she blew out a sigh and leaned against a convenient wall.

He'd been too tense when she'd brought the subject up, too relaxed when she'd asked if he'd brought the book back. If that were all she'd been asking about, the obvious conclusion would've been that he was worried she was about to accuse him of taking it. _If_ that was all she was asking about. 

If he was some kind of amateur magician... what then? What connection did the book have? Was it a red herring? Had he targeted Bess because of their mutual dislike, or because of some tension between her and his sister? Could the book itself have been cursed in some way, and the curse set off when it was read... but then, why was it targeting Bess, and not him? Because she'd taken it from the library?

Whatever the answer was, she was sure he was hiding something.

Setting Henry on him would probably be overkill; for all she knew, the reason he was so nervous was because he'd gotten crumbs in Bess's book and he was afraid she'd find out. He wasn't the usual kind of scum she might be tempted to set him on.

That didn't mean the idea wasn't tempting.

Henry had better things to do with his time, though. Asking him to help with research for something that seemed likely to be supernatural was one thing; getting him to give up time he could have spent writing or hunting to threaten a kid over something that hadn't killed anyone, and didn't seem likely to, was another. And it wasn't like she wasn't capable of solving the case on her own.

She reached into her bag for her notebook. Maybe reviewing her list again would make the connection between the items - because there had to be one; nobody just stole items at random - spring out at her.

It wasn't there.

She frowned, fumbling for her flashlight and flicking it on. The contents of her bag sprang into visibility.

Pens. Tissues. Plastic evidence bags.

No notebook.

She could have left it somewhere. She could have taken it out to jot something down and forgotten to pick it up again, or gone to put it inside her bag and slipped it down the outside instead. Somebody could have tried to steal her wallet, gotten a ratty old notebook instead, and tossed it into the nearest bin in disgust.

Or maybe whatever curse Bess was under was catching.

Calling Henry in was starting to feel like less of an overreaction.

Vicki almost wasn't surprised when she got home to find a message waiting on her machine. The only unexpected part was that it was Mike and not her mother, really.

He was still at the station when she called back. She could hear all the old familiar noises in the background - the murmur of voices occasionally punctuated by someone shouting, phones ringing, and a sudden, intense sense-memory of the taste of Inspector Cantree's terrible coffee - and for a moment she was... not jealous, but nostalgic, maybe. She liked what she was doing now, didn't feel any more of that lingering ache for the life she'd lost, and if there was anything the past year had shown her it was that there needed to be someone with her skillset around to help with the problems the police weren't equipped to deal with; but all the same, it might've been nice to hit this problem with all the police's resources, not just hers.

"Is something up, Mike?"

"No." He paused. "Are you free tonight?"

Translation: are you with Henry? She grimaced at the phone. Well, she wasn't going to make it that easy for him.

"Working on a case, actually."

"Oh. Anything interesting?"

"It's not provably supernatural, if that's what you're asking. Yet."

"But you think it might be?"

"Maybe? I can't tell if I'm reading something into it that isn't there, or if I'm just picking up on some kind of subtle hint. I'm looking into it."

"Is it dangerous?"

"No. Well, not yet. Not unless you count coffee theft."

"I would, actually." He sighed, crackling across the line. "You need a hand?"

"I don't think so. But I'll let you know if that changes."

"Sure. And - let me know when you're free, all right?"

"I will."

She set the handset down on the base and stared at it for a moment. "If this is him planning to try to get me to make a choice again," she told it, "he's got another thing coming."

She couldn't resist having another rifle through her bag before she left again. Everything there was as it should be, and for a moment, she was relieved.

Then she spotted the empty place on the counter where she knew she'd left a half-eaten bag of cheese balls propping open her phone book, growled, and slammed her way out.

By the time she arrived at Henry's flat, he was awake. Awake and tense, prowling around his apartment like he was searching for an intruder.

"What's wrong?"

"Something's not right." He grimaced. "It's not - there's no blood smell, other than yours, and it's nothing like the demon. I'm not even sure I _am_ smelling something."

Vicki's stomach sank. "Is anything missing?"

He blinked. "You think - hang on." He made another sweep, this time visibly restraining his instinctual response and examining it with his more rational human side.

"Anything?"

"Yes." His lips curled up. "I had an advance copy of my last book on the edge of my desk. Now it's gone."

"It hasn't... I don't know, fallen off the side?"

He shook his head. "No. It's nowhere else in the room. I'd left it out deliberately. I had some opinions about the cover - it's too late to fix it now, but I thought I'd have a word with my agent about it once I'd gotten past that irritating scene that's holding me up."

"And there's no way you could've left it somewhere else?"

He shook his head. "I know where everything is here. It was on my desk when the sun rose this morning, and now it's not, and since nobody else has been here..."

"Then whatever this is, it's contagious." Vicki grimaced. "Mind coming with me to scare a potential culprit into talking?"

"If it means not losing anything else? Absolutely not."

The restaurant was bustlingly busy when they arrived. Vicki leaned against the building next door, pretending to consult a map, while Henry scouted inside.

"No chance we'll be able to pin your suspect down any time soon," he told her a few minutes later. "They don't have so many staff it wouldn't be noticeable if one of them vanished, and I doubt he'd come out to speak to you voluntarily in any case, not if he thinks you suspect him."

"Assuming he hasn't already done a runner."

He shook his head. "He's the tall brown-haired waiter, right? He smells like magic?"

"You can tell that?"

"Apparently. If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't have the... unpleasant undertones of Birdwell or Tawfik. Whatever magic he's into, it's not to their level."

"It does. Thanks." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "But it doesn't really matter what his intentions were if he ends up wrecking someone else's life."

"Or, at the very least, being extremely irritating." He nodded across the street. "There's a coffee shop over there. We'll be a bit less conspicuous waiting there for things to quieten down."

Vicki squinted at the coloured blur. There were a lot of streetlights around here, courtesy of the area’s large number of restaurants and late-night businesses, but they didn't extend far enough for her to actually tell what stores the lit windows across the street were attached to. "If you say so."

The coffee wasn't any better than mediocre - which, to be fair, put it a step above what she'd drunk on the force - and Henry pulled a face when he sipped his water, but it made good enough cover. There were a surprisingly large number of people wandering in and out for the hour, and though most of them didn't stay as long as they were, nobody seemed to think it was unusual, either.

After a little while, Henry borrowed one of her pens and began scribbling on a napkin. Vicki guessed it was something about his next novel - his old-fashioned copperplate wasn't quite what she'd learned in school, but she could decipher enough of it to get the gist, and guessing what he was writing about was less depressing than trying to remember how many pens she'd had in her bag the first time she'd met Bess. More than she had now, she thought, but how could she be sure? Every so often he glanced up and eyed the restaurant across the street, scanning the crowds for their target.

"It's a good thing I have you here," Vicki murmured after the third time he did it. "It's been long enough since I was on stakeout I hadn't realised how much harder my eyes would end up making it."

He flashed her a smile. "You know I'm always happy to help you, Vicki."

She narrowed her eyes at him, expecting him to continue and entirely ready to argue the point. Instead he looked back down at his notes, crossing something out and writing in a correction in even smaller letters than before.

It wasn't like there was anything _wrong_ with him saying that. She did appreciate his help, and it wasn't like he'd ever refused, even when the case she was solving was something entirely non-supernatural. But she couldn't ignore the undercurrents of the conversation - _you know I'll be here. You know I can give you things Celluci can't_. And the same from Mike every time they spoke, like he couldn't make it through a conversation without reminding her that _he_ could go out in the day, that _he_ had a history with her that Henry never could.

There wasn't anything wrong with what they had now, and she couldn't see why they were both so determined to wreck it all of a sudden. Hadn't they been managing fine? Hadn't -

"Hold on," Henry said, looking up suddenly. "I'll just -"

He slipped out of the store, vanishing into the darkness outside. Vicki did her best to wait patiently. It would have helped if she'd known what he'd seen, but she hadn't been about to try to stop him, not when they'd been waiting here so long already. If what he'd seen was Aaron ducking outside for a minute to take the garbage out... well, she'd just have to live with the knowledge she hadn't been able to get over there fast enough to avoid making his co-workers suspicious.

He stuck his head back in the door and gestured her over, and she followed him out onto the street, napkin outline stashed in her bag.

"What is it?"

"He's in the alley over there," he said, nodding in the direction of the restaurant. "Smoke break, I think."

"Right. Let's go."

Aaron, standing under a flickering light over a side door and entirely absorbed in his cigarette, didn't notice them until they were entering the side alley. He blinked at the sight of them, dropped his cigarette when he recognised Vicki, and had only managed to open his mouth halfway when Henry intoned " _Explain_."

"I don't -"

"Explain," Vicki put in, "what you did to Bess Thompson."

"I -" His face crumpled. "It was an accident!"

"Go on."

"I was just trying to cheer Jane up," he said rapidly, glancing from side to side. "It's a traditional Christmas thing, or it used to be - you have a Lord of Misrule, they create mischief and annoy people, I thought I'd summon something up to entertain her but when I did the spell nothing _happened_. I thought I'd screwed it up, or maybe I just wasn't good enough to manage it, and anyway who knew if it'd do anything, anyway, maybe she just would've told me to buzz off again - but, look, the point is, I didn't mean to do anything to mess with her, I was _trying_ to do a good thing, and it's not fair to bring your terrifying friend to loom over me like he's thinking of murdering me because I tried to help my sister!"

"Maybe if you'd said all this earlier, I wouldn't have had to."

"Nobody believes in magic!"

" _I_ do." She glanced up at Henry, who nodded and faded back into the shadows. "You need to get rid of whatever it is you summoned."

"It'll go away on its own eventually," he said, relaxing. "Things like that don't have the staying power to hang around here for long, not unless whoever summoned it is feeding it more power, and I'm definitely not doing that."

"So Bess and her co-workers should just have to put up with it until then?"

"Bess is a bi-"

Henry loomed back into the circle of light again, clearing his throat.

"No," Aaron said. "No, she should not. Hang on. Did you say her co-workers? Do you mean that she's annoying them whining about her missing book, or..."

"I'd show you the three pages of items they've lost - that they've identified so far, anyway - except that my notebook has also mysteriously gone missing."

"Uh. That wasn't supposed to happen?"

"We'd gathered that, yes."

"I'd quite like my book back too," Henry added.

He went white. "Right. Okay. So what I'm getting from this is that I should look into banishing it and also find out where it's stashed its stuff and sort of... un-stash it?"

"Immediately," Vicki said, glaring at him. All right, Henry had that whole Prince of the Night thing going on, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be just as frightened of her. She'd spent nine years on the force, for pity's sake!

"I, uh. I can't go _now_ , my shift runs for another couple of hours and it's way too busy -"

"Understandable," Henry said smoothly. "However, consider this: if we have to come back tomorrow night, we will both be... displeased."

"Right. Yeah. I will absolutely get onto that as soon as I finish my shift. Promise."

"Glad to hear it." He stepped away. "I believe that concludes our business with you. Vicki?"

"It does. As long as you keep up your end of the bargain." She turned away, linking her arm with Henry's, and stepping out into the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

The shrill of her phone woke her far too early the next morning. She rolled out of bed, wincing as her shoulder hit the bedside table, and stumbled into the kitchen.

"Mom, if this is you -"

"Vicki. Did you find your coffee thief?"

"Mike? Do you have any idea how early it is?"

"Nine?"

She glared at the clock on the wall. "Okay, fine. It's not that early, I'm just tired. And it's not just a coffee thief - it's taken all sorts of things. Why?"

"Because ever since I got to work this morning it's been a constant stream of _have you seen?_ , including a set of Dave's notes on one of our cases -"

Vicki hissed out a breath between her teeth.

"Don't worry, we've got a backup. Well... don't worry about _that_. Because what's bothering me is what happens if something vanishes that we don't have another copy of -"

"Especially if it's something you need to close a case," she finished grimly. "This was _supposed_ to be under control. Let me look into it, okay?"

"Look fast. And if you need some official-looking backup -"

"I'll call, don't worry." This wasn't the time to get annoyed because Aaron would probably think Henry or Mike was a bigger threat than she was; it was the time to stop this before it got worse. "Wait - I need an address. Aaron Brown."

"I'll call you back."

The Aaron who opened the door to her insistent knock was significantly less pulled together than he had been last night. There were deep bags beneath his eyes, a burn on one hand, and a streak of what might be ash through his hair.

"Oh," he said. "Shit."

"Basically, yeah." She shoved past him into the tiny apartment. It stank of burnt herbs. There were stubs of candles all over the floor, a glass bottle precariously balanced over a hibachi containing what looked very much like blood, and even a wobbly pentagram drawn on the kitchen floor.

"I've been trying," he said, closing the door behind her and slumping against it. "I really have."

"That or you've gone to a surprisingly large amount of effort to _look_ like you've been doing something useful." She wasn't sure he'd bother, not after the scare Henry'd given him last night, but maybe it'd irritate him into confessing... something.

"I have been!" He scrubbed at his face. "Look, I've been awake all night. I've tried every banishing spell in every spellbook I own - and I've been collecting them, believe me, you'd be astounded how cheap some of them are - and I tried inventing a couple, because I couldn't tell that the spell worked last time so I figured maybe I wouldn't be able to tell if it'd gone either and I might as well be thorough, and it's not that hard, it's just making up something that feels like _go away_ \- you're sure it didn't work?"

"Very. I have a report from a friend that things have been going missing as of this morning."

"And he's sure?"

"He's a cop. He's always sure."

His lips twitched. "Wait, it's stealing from the cops now? Isn't stopping that kind of thing meant to be _their_ job?"

"Sure is," Vicki said calmly, stepping up into his space. "Except that they don't know anything about magic or how to stop it. Except that the time they spend dealing with _this_ is time they could be spending on something more important - say, arresting murderers, or rapists, or child abusers - which is something that's going to become a hell of a lot harder if their goddamn _arrest warrants_ go missing, or their evidence -"

"Uh -"

" _And_ , since this creature of yours seems to be _contagious_ , there's no guarantee it won't spread to the _rest_ of the stations in Toronto. And hey, maybe you're thinking, 'well, what's the problem there? What's going to happen to me if the cops don't know about magic and can't arrest me?' Consider this: _I_ am your problem. And one of the convenient things about not being a cop any more is that I don't have to follow any of their rules."

"Right. Yes. I can, uh, I can see that. Not that I'd - I mean, _obviously_ I'd help, I'm not just going to let - sure, I don't like cops, I bet a lot of people don't, but murderers... are worse?"

She glared at him. "Solutions?"

"Uh. Okay, uh, one thing I thought of while I was trying to make up my own spells was that maybe the problem was distance. Most banishing spells are designed to work on something that's trapped in a pentagram - do you know -"

"Keep talking."

"Right. Okay. So, uh, they work against stuff that's in a pentagram, or something that's just sort of hanging around your workroom causing problems. So what I was thinking was maybe they're designed to only work in a small area - or they _could_ work in a larger area, but I'm not powerful enough - or they'd work across a larger distance if they were being targeted against something that was already in a pentagram, because that'd focus the magic properly - anyway, the point is, if I knew where it was hiding I could go there and get rid of it directly, but I can't, because I don't know where that is. Problem one."

"There'd better not be a problem two."

He winced. "There is? Demons and spirits and that kind of thing don't come from here. They hang out in this... other dimension, alternate plane, whatever you want to call it, and they can only get over here if someone actually summons them. And that got me thinking - what if there's more than one? What if the reason nobody's seen it, or all the stuff it's taken, is that it's spending all its time in some _other_ alternate dimension that's easier to cross over from and just popping in here when it actually grabs something?"

Vicki frowned. " _Would_ that be a problem?"

"Well... if it _is_ the distance that's causing the issue, yes, probably. I'm pretty sure 'in an alternate dimension' is pretty much the biggest distance possible, metaphysically speaking. Plus, even if it being in an alternate dimension wasn't the major issue, it'd make it really hard to actually find it to do the spell."

"But if you _could_ find it, you could at least try. Right?"

"Sure. I'm running low on ingredients, but the basic banishing spells don't need much. But we don't know -"

"Most of what it's taken has been at the university library," she said. "Could just be that that's where it started, but maybe there's something else."

"Like what?"

She scowled at him. "How would I know? You're the magic guy."

"Okay, okay. So your plan is we just go hang out at the library banishing it in case it's there and, what, hope nobody sees us being weird?"

"It's a university. I'm sure they're used to it." She glanced around, then snagged a bag from the couch and tossed it at him. "Pack up."

"Now? But -" He sagged. "Sure. Now. Okay. I'll grab my stuff."

"I still can't tell if it's actually doing anything."

"Try another one."

"Fine."

The breeze whipping along the back of the library was icy, but it wasn't enough to chase Vicki away. Aaron was reluctant enough that she thought keeping an eye on him was a good idea - not that she thought he wanted to risk pissing her or Henry off any further, but it _was_ miserable and she wouldn't put it past him to sneak off for a coffee. And she wasn't inclined to give him a chance for a break, not considering how much damage that creature of his could do.

An especially hard gust of wind blew out half of the guttering candles in front of him, and he shoved them aside with a muttered curse. "Screw this. I'm doing the spell that _doesn't_ need me to keep five candles alight."

"You can do whatever spell you want, as long as it actually fixes this."

"Yeah, yeah." He scattered a handful of something pungent and green in front of him, mumbling under his breath and rocking forward on his toes; after a moment, it burst into bluish flame. Vicki tensed, but he didn't seem upset about it, so she supposed that was meant to happen.

Watching magic happen was - like any other job that seemed interesting from the outside - surprisingly boring. She strode to the far corner of the building and back again, rubbing her hands together and trying not to stare too obviously at Aaron's efforts. Getting him to solve the problem had seemed like the most obvious choice, since he'd caused it in the first place and it wasn't as though she had another wizard on call, but she was beginning to wonder if Henry might know of another one in Toronto, or at least have a guess about where they ought to start looking. She just didn't know enough about magic to know whether Aaron was genuinely doing whatever he could to fix things, or if he maybe just didn't have the talent to fix a problem like this. Maybe -

Vicki felt the hairs on her arms raise, prickling against her shirt, and stifled a gasp. She leaned in towards Aaron, who seemed to be feeling it too; there was sweat rolling down his face despite the icy breeze, and his teeth were digging into his lip. Something was definitely happening this time.

"Come on," she muttered. "Come on, you asshole -"

He yelped and fell backwards, catching himself with one hand. The magic - or whatever it had been - in the air was gone.

"What happened?" she demanded, grabbing him by the shoulder and hauling him upright. "Did it work?"

"It was like I was pushing against a balloon," he said, rubbing his face. "It was resisting, but I was getting through, I could feel it - and then the balloon was gone."

"And it was gone before the spell ended?"

He nodded. "I'll bet you anything it's jumping into another dimension like I thought. Somewhere I can't banish it."

"Do you think you could come up with a spell that'd stop it from crossing over?"

He shot her an incredulous glance. "No. And even if there was one, I couldn't manage it quickly enough."

"All right, then." She paced across the concrete, pushing wind-whipped hair out of her face. "What we need is some kind of trap, then."

"Seriously?"

"Very much so. We know it comes here to steal items. We know that nobody sees it. Maybe that means it's invisible, but given it's hiding somewhere else I think there's a decent chance it's not. So we find something it'll want to steal, set you up hidden somewhere nearby ready to banish it, and then all we have to do is wait."

"Are you sure? That sounds -"

" - unnecessarily complicated."

"Do you have a simpler solution?" she snapped, glaring at Henry.

"No. But it needed to be said."

"Believe me, it has been."

"Do you know what to use as bait? From what I recall, the original list of stolen items was somewhat... eclectic."

"It was. But I've got some guesses. It didn't take anything valuable. The only library book it took was off-premises, and everything _else_ it took from the library was in their offices - which, incidentally, are a recent addition to the building. Nobody who had offices in the original building lost anything."

"Some kind of protection on the building?"

"Maybe. Or maybe it's allergic to the wallpaper, who knows. Everything _else_ it took was from the inside of a building too."

He frowned. "I thought you said you lost your notebook."

"I don't know where I lost it. So you're right, I could've been outside when it happened - but I've spent enough time inside the past few days that it could've managed it."

"What's special about inside?"

She shrugged. "Easier to hide? Sure, maybe I'm wrong and it _is_ invisible, but if it's not then that'd be a big factor."

"Maybe." He raised a brow. "But that doesn't narrow down our options for bait very much."

She grinned. "Yes, it does. It's taken tons of pens - my notebook - your book - Dave Graham's notes -"

"You think it's attracted to, what, stationary?"

"Maybe. Sure, there's a few outliers in there like the scarf and the coffee, but almost everything else is writing-related. I'll call Mike back, see if his list of missing items agrees. But if I'm right, all we have to do is get a decent pile of pens going, maybe another list of what it's taken, since it liked that last time..."

"In the library's offices?"

"Well, it's been there since the beginning, and it sounds like it kept taking things even after people started noticing it was happening... easier to get into after hours than the station, too."

"You're not wrong." He frowned. "None of this explains why his creature targeted Bess, though. Surely it should have gone after him first - or his sister, perhaps."

"Well, they don't seem to be very fond of each other. Maybe he was thinking a little bit too hard about how much he disliked her when he did the spell, and it latched onto that and decided to ruin her life specifically. Or it just thought it'd be more entertaining to steal from someone who might actually notice their stuff was missing. His apartment wasn't exactly tidy, and it would've had the opportunity to follow him back to Bess's when he returned the book he'd borrowed."

"Hmm. Perhaps." He raised a brow. "When do you want to do this?"

"As soon as possible - tonight, if we can. Pens going missing from the library isn't exactly an emergency, but if it keeps targeting the station... well, that could turn into one very easily."

"And Aaron?"

"Finishes at eleven-thirty tonight. That gives us enough time to set up the bait, him enough time to catch a couple of hours of sleep and restock whatever he needs to do the spell, and should let us spring the trap around midnight, which is apparently important."

Henry nodded. "It's a boundary between one day and another. Since we're trying to force this creature to cross the boundary between dimensions, that should work in our favour. If he can't manage the spell tonight, we _could_ use the solstice as another source of power - though I don't think anybody wants to wait another week to deal with this problem."

"No, not really." Vicki shoved her glasses up her nose. "Do you have any other holes to pick in the plan, or can we go ahead and try it?"

"No. I don't." He paused. "I'll admit it feels a little rushed, but you're right. This needs to be fixed sooner than later. And if worst comes to worst and it _doesn't_ work, we can always try again on the solstice."

"And maybe track down another wizard in the meantime." Vicki stretched her arms over her head, feeling a grin spread across her face. "Right now, though? We have a trap to build."

Vicki shifted her weight from one leg to another impatiently. She'd done stakeouts before, of course, but they were a part of the job she hadn't particularly missed. And the fact that there wasn't a great deal she could actually do on this one didn't make it any more enjoyable.

The library was unsettlingly quiet after hours. It probably shouldn't have felt so strange, considering it'd been pretty sedate when she'd visited before as well, but the darkness and absence of people gave it an extra level of creepiness that hadn't been in evidence then.

And that wasn't even getting into the wizard and the vampire hiding in the office - a thought that felt enough like the setup to a bad joke that she had to stifle a snort.

Vicki, as the least useful person there, was tucked behind a set of shelves by the window. There wasn't likely to be much she could do other than witness, and the combination of the moon and streetlights coming through the window meant she could. Sort of. The office was mostly lost in darkness, but she could make out the pale gleam of the pile of paper, pens, and other office detritus a few metres away.

Aaron was in someone's office, door cracked just enough for him to be able to tell if the creature showed up; Henry was under a desk. Vicki suspected he was planning to jump out and try to grab the creature when it showed up. She probably ought to object to him ad-libbing like that, but it wasn't as though he couldn't move fast enough to do it, and if he could manage to slow it down for long enough for Aaron to banish it she was pretty sure she'd end up thanking him instead.

Maybe she should have stayed out of this one. She didn't even have the excuse of needing to be around to wrangle Aaron; as much as he'd struck her as someone who'd be only too happy to give up responsibility for this particular problem, she doubted he'd be willing to try to sneak out past Henry, and he already knew they'd track him down if necessary to get this fixed. But staying out of it entirely would've been far too frustrating, just sitting and waiting with no idea what was happening, and -

The rustling of paper in the centre of the room seemed as loud as glass breaking in the silence of the library.

She bit her tongue hard and willed herself not to move a muscle. Now wasn't the time to risk alerting -

Something thudded onto the table, sending pens and paper rattling onto the floor - Henry? The air filled with that same crackling sense of power she'd felt the first time Aaron had almost banished it. How long had it taken him then? It hadn't been too long, had it? She could feel it growing, pressing pricklingly against her skin; she clenched her fists, using the feeling of nails biting into her skin to ground herself.

It was working. It had to be. It hadn't felt nearly this bad when he'd tried banishing it the first time, so Henry had to be managing to keep it there, and that meant -

There was a _pop_ , and a series of thuds from the office Aaron was hiding in. Henry grunted.

"Is it gone?" Vicki desperately wanted to turn the lights on - never mind if anyone saw them through the windows, they'd probably think it was the cleaners or someone in the office late - but she wasn't about to risk throwing Henry off by blinding him at the wrong moment.

"It's certainly not here any more. Whether it's _gone_..."

"Cover your eyes, then."

Blinking spots away from her eyes as she adjusted to the light, she couldn't help but think the office wasn't in nearly as much disarray as she would have expected from the noise. Their pile of bait was scattered over the floor and a few chairs had been overturned, but for the most part it was in the same condition it'd been earlier.

Other than the pile of ash on the table.

"Well," Henry said, grimacing and trying to brush ash off his sweater. It smeared. "That was exciting."

"Do you think that's it?"

"I suppose it must be. It couldn't have managed to keep its presence here a secret if it left piles of ash every time it stole something."

"Yeah. It's definitely gone." Aaron was holding a reddish Kleenex to his nose. "I didn't expect banishing it to hit that hard, though."

"Good." Vicki began scooping up the pens and paper it'd scattered over the floor. Hopefully she wouldn't get anything that actually belonged here - though considering how much they'd lost over the past few weeks, it wasn't like anybody would notice.

"Can I go home now?" Aaron added plaintively.

She shrugged. "I can't see why not - though -"

"If it turns out it isn't gone you'll show up and yell at me again? Yeah, sure. It's not like I won't know it's coming." He stifled a yawn. "But seriously, I need to sleep."

"Don't let anyone see you on the way out," she warned, turning back to Henry, who was sweeping the ash into a trash can. "You don't think they'll notice that?"

"It's not as though they'd guess where it came from." He sighed and poked at the white smears down the front of his sweater. "I think I may have to take this to a professional."

She fished a plastic bag out of her handbag, dumping the bait they'd brought with them into it. "Probably? I wouldn't have any idea. Do you think that's everything?"

"Almost." He ducked into the office. "He knocked a few chairs over - no leftover blood, though. Good."

"What, not up for a midnight snack?"

He cast her an exasperated look as he exited again. "Not if I have to lick it off the wall, no."

She flicked the light off as they left, taking Henry's arm to guide her through the much darker stacks. Weirdly enough, they seemed much less unsettling now. Maybe it was the magic - or lack thereof.

"How do you suppose we're going to get all the stolen items back?" Henry said, pausing by the door. "I can't imagine our friend here wants to have anything else to do with it."

Vicki shrugged, fumbling with her bag. "Honestly, I'm just glad - huh."

He raised a brow at her.

She drew her notebook out of the depths of her bag, grinning. "I guess we don't have to worry about any of that."

"Interesting. I wonder if it brought _everything_ back, or just those items that were close enough to their original homes when it was banished?"

"I can live with not everything going back as long as nothing else vanishes, honestly."

"I'd rather like my advance copy back."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe we should go back to your place and see if it's shown up, then."

"Perhaps we should." He glanced around the deserted library. "There's nothing else you need to do here?"

"I can deal with the aftermath tomorrow. Including working out whatever it is I'm going to tell Bess. Somehow, I don't think 'a wizard did it' is going to cut it." She swung the front door open and frowned. "Henry, is this -"

"Snow." He stepped out into it, turning his face up to the sky.

"This feels like a cheesy Christmas rom-com," Vicki said, rolling her eyes as she followed him.

Henry grinned. "I don't think anybody would ever mistake you for the heroine of one of those."

"Hey!"

"Come on, Vicki. Let's go home."


End file.
